Red Thread ▹ Rebekah Mikaelson

07.

red thread.

07. a door with no hinges to swing on is not really a door anymore

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Foster had awaken to many of strange things, but the scene she walked into the next topped any of them. Damon sat chained to a chair, the smell of burnt flesh was in the air, and a fire poker protruding from his stomach. Foster cocked an eyebrow at Stefan, who's leaning across the room.

"What's happening?" she asked, looking between her brothers.

Damon let out a groan as he turned his head to look at her. "More of Stefan's twisted ripper games. Seriously, leave me out of it," he told her, directing the last part to the middle Salvatore child.

"I didn't do this," Stefan defended, not so well since his face was basically radiating amusement.

Damon glared back him, just as convinced as Foster, which was not in the slightest. "Quit screwing around."

"I didn't," Stefan insisted. "Pretty messed up though, isn't it?"

"Yep," Damon and Foster said in sync. Stefan yanked the poker from Damon's stomach, receiving a grunt from the elder brother and then broke off one of the wrists confinements before walking away. "Yeah. Not to worry. I'll just untangle myself," Damon called after Stefan, then looked at Foster. "A little help here?"

Foster only shrugged. "I suppose. Though this is kind of refreshing. It's been awhile since any of us have been tortured," she mused, only earning a glare. Slowly, she walked over and broke off the other lock holding down Damon's wrist.

Out of nowhere, the curtains flew open and Damon's skin flared up, eliciting a scream from him. Foster glanced around in confusion and flashed over to the curtain, yanking them shut.

She then turned back to her panting brother, a panicked look on her face. "Are we haunted?"

___________

     "He's dead, Damon. I'm the one who killed him," Foster groaned for the tenth time. Damon clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Besides, why would he torture you and not me?"

"I'm the one who kidnapped him and tortured him. You only put him out of his misery," Damon told her. He glanced Foster with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure you did it right?"

Foster gaped at him for a moment. "Is there a wrong way to kill someone? And you're the one who got rid of his body. Are you sure you did that right?" she countered.

He ignored her and squealed to a stop when he saw Bonnie and Caroline. "Greetings, blondie, witchy." Foster shot them a smile and small wave, ignoring her brother's greeting. "Think you got your voodoo wires crossed when you got rid of Vicki Donovan."

Bonnie's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean? Why?"

From the passenger seat, Foster spoke, "Because Genius over here is pretty sure he just got spit-roasted by Mason Lockwood's ghost."

"What?" Bonnie and Caroline questioned at the same time. "Why would you think that?"

"Maybe because he chained me to a chair and shoved a hot poker in my chest," Damon snapped at the three girls, glaring at Foster slightly when she raised her hands in surrender. "Let's just say I'm having déjà vu."

"Wait, didn't you kill him?" Caroline asked, looking at Foster.

Foster threw her hands up in exasperation. "Yes! Can I get a little more credit for my skills in murder?"